


Hold My Hand

by MoonWitch96



Category: Glass no Kamen | Glass Mask
Genre: Acting, Alternate Universe, F/M, Friendship, Hayami meets Maya First, May/December Relationship, Mostly friendship, Romance, Slow Burn, Worldbuilding, eventually, mentions of abuse
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-06-06
Updated: 2021-01-29
Packaged: 2021-03-04 01:41:15
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,529
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24575476
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoonWitch96/pseuds/MoonWitch96
Summary: It's the year 1974- Hayami Masumi's car breaks down in front of a Chinese Restaurant. Because of that one and million chance, he meets twelve-year-old Kitajima Maya first.
Relationships: Hayami Masumi/Kitajima Maya
Comments: 10
Kudos: 14





	1. A Small Chance

**A Small Chance**

_17 December 1974_

Hayami Masumi realized in about two seconds, with startled disbelief, that he was in trouble. Well, not real trouble. _More like a small amount of trouble_ , he thought with a little bit of humor.

It was a little bit of odd mirth that hardly ever struck him. Humor, because it had been months since he had taken a break. A byproduct of his status of vice-president, and president in all but name with the president's ailing health. And all it had taken was for his car to break down in the middle of a city he had never been in, Yokohama, out of the way and completely off the radar from his Tokyo domain. He had come there because there had been a rumor, that the infamous Black Lady, Tsukikage Chigusa, was looking into buying a resident in the more affluent parts of the city. He had come to Yokohama to stake out any potential homes and put in the process of buying them if she planned to rent and become her landlord, or at least keep on eye on the wily old thing. He did not relish the thought of wasting so much capital on real-estate that held little to no value to the company. Despite the relative largeness of the city and the growing theater scene, Masumi felt that the monopolization of the Tokyo market was a much more valuable project for him to focus on. The fact of the matter was when it came to modern Theater and film, Tokyo was Japan's hub. The area with the most foreign investment, increasingly necessary in their modern world. And Masumi was all about the modern- the future.

But Tsukikage Chigusa was the epitome of the past, he supposed. His oldest obstacle, the object that haunted his young life.

While he had never personally met the woman, his father's obsession, and subsequent madness over the issue of the rights to the play, Crimson Goddess, had been something that had dominated Masumi. There was not a single week that had passed, without the Black Lady being mentioned, without the Crimson Goddess being brought up in rapturous awe and want on the part of his adopted father. When the rumors swirled over her whereabouts, over her movements, he would follow. But now it fell to Masumi to follow her footsteps. Chase after an old woman he had never seen in person, only knew of her by reputation, by the story, by rumor. The rumors of her residing in Yokohama had come from a reliable source. It all but assured him that he would be at least visiting the area with some frequency in the future.

And that the old woman would become a thorn in his side as she had been to his adopted father.

Today's disaster had started simple enough- a need to take a detour because of some construction- a bit of sputter of the engine, and his panicked driver slamming on the breaks as the engine started to smoke. It was a million and one chance that his car, expensive and the year's newest model, would break down.

But it did, and it left him stranded in the middle of Yokohama, in a little bit of trouble.

Not what he expected for himself. He had really no idea how to return to Tokyo by train, his only other option at the moment, and felt it too pedestrian by half. Masumi knew he had little options, beyond calling for a second car, and he knew at best he was stranded for the majority, if not the rest of the day. Perhaps more if he had trouble contacting the office.

His driver, kept apologizing, even as he had jumped out into the bitter cold without hesitation to check what was the matter with the car. Masumi always employed the best, always employed those of which he knew would be loyal to him, or at least those who would be in contact with him so personally. But, after about twenty minutes, the car, off and without its heater, Masumi had started to get cold. Irritated, and feeling off with his inactivity, Masumi stepped out to smoke a cigarette and to stretch his legs, pulling on his thick winter coat and stuffing his hands into his fine leather gloves. It was really cold, and even with a hit of nicotine and warmth of the smoke crawling down and poisoning his lungs, he felt himself shiver. His carphone didn't have a signal, and by looking around the neighborhood, he suspected it had something to do with a lack of towers in the area. They were near the marina, he knew, that much by both smell and the sight of the taller ships' masts over the short buildings, but beyond that, he did not know where exactly. He could see that they were in a smaller, more rundown area of the city, somewhat residential. He sighed, taking a deeper inhale of his smooth cigarette.

"Hayami-sama, I really am sorry," said his driver, a young man just a year or so younger than him, that had just recently been assigned to him. For the life of him, Masumi could not quite recall his name. He knew he had been personally vetted by Mizuki, so he did not immediately distrust him. The younger man bowed his head, quickly, dress shirt rolled up despite the cold, jacket discarded. His fingers were red and covered in grime, "I will try to have the car ready if you can just step back into the car-"

Masumi allowed him to apologize before the driver went back to his work, without bothering to counter that it hadn't been his fault. He simply nodded, and leaned slightly against the car, taking another drag of his cigarette. It was still freezing, being December, inside the car or not. He did not relish the thought of going back to the car and sitting stiffly in his jacket, with nothing to do. He knew he had to find somewhere to sit out the snowfall that had just started until the car was working again. On a whim, and because he was hungry, Masumi dropped his cigarette on the ground and crushed it underneath his fine, Italian-leather heel. He stared dubiously into the Chinese restaurant his car had broken down in front of, wondering if he should ask to use their phone. Nothing of the outside of the restaurant particularly appealed to him to come in, but he did not want to sit in the cold car or stare impatiently at his driver.

Masumi was a man of action, and he figured getting into a building with _heating(hopefully)_ was at least a positive action.

He headed inside and felt relief at the warmth the inside provided. _Heating, thank goodness._ It was a terribly small place, the hostess, an older, hard-looking woman, greeted him with a smile that looked like it had been chipped onto her severe face, and a curt traditional saying. The restaurant was nothing like the quality places he frequented. It did not speak of cuisine to Masumi, did not evoke his appetite with its wrapped wood and crowded layout for the few tables that adorned the small space, which was mostly dominated by a bar. But with the thought of going outside in the cold again, with not much else around, he made his way to the counter. He ignored how the old wooden beams creaked beneath his feet, or how the walls were covered in bright, but faded images of the food and various traditional signs denoting Ramen gave him the faint realization that he hadn't eaten since that morning.

"Welcome, sir," said the cook, an older man with slight hesitation upon looking at him, from his designer shoes to his carefully arranged hair, "What can I get for you?"

Masumi took a cursory glance at the menu and was honest enough to see that he had never had anything remotely on the menu. He didn't think he had ever had ramen, and if he had, it had been before his adoption into the Hayami family. Too 'coarse' and 'unrefined' for his adopted father's palette. He strictly adhered to a Japanese inflicted diet, a by-product of the War, or perhaps just a personal preference. And though the noodle could be considered Japanese now, Ramen was completely too pedestrian for him. It seemed, however, to completely dominate the menu. He hummed, opened his mouth to speak:

"I recommend the miso!" said a chipper voice, and Masumi started, turned towards the loud, boisterous voice.

It was a little girl. _Painfully, unfortunately, plain and no more than twelve_ , he thought and she turned beet red as she took him in. Or maybe because Masumi was focusing on her. She wore a patched up apron and shyness- ducking her head as he looked at her. She was dreadfully short and thin, with frightfully small hands. Strangely enough, he found himself smiling, it felt odd on his face, because it was genuine, not at all like the smiles that he was forced to make with an investor or an overzealous actress hanging on his arm. It was a small smile, a little funny because of his lack of practice, but _genuine_. Because he had never been addressed in such a way before. Without calculation. Without aim. Just an aimless comment that was made off-handedly towards him with some cheer.

"The miso?" he asked, quirking an eyebrow.

Hesitantly, the girl looked up, her light brown eyes were wide, soft-looking, and terribly expressive. She gave him a smile, just a small upturn of her lips. It didn't transform her face, didn't change it into beauty as many novels he had read claimed would happen to any girl with genuine innocence. But it was a sweet smile, and it was very warm for being directed at a stranger. Masumi couldn't remeber the last time someone had smiled at him without a reason. Or so nicely.

"Y-y-yes. It's my favorite ramen," she said, much more subdued, but with a soft honesty.

Blinking, his smile widening unconsciously on his face, he turned to the cook.

"Two bowls of the miso it is then. I was wondering if you had a phone? My car broke down, and while my driver is resolving the issue, I need to call my office."

"Of course, sir. Maya-chan, would you take the man to the phone?"

"Yes, sir," said the girl, Maya, bobbing her head up and down in a comically fast way. Her hair, black and a little rough looking from lack of care flew this way, and that due to its movement, "This way!"

Nodding politely to the cook, Masumi filled behind the girl trying to suppress the odd urge to laugh at the fact that she was two heads shorter than him. Mitsugu's girl, who was the same age, was significantly taller than the girl. She was his only frame of reference for a child. She was the only really notable talent they had in their youth division and due to both her mother and father, she was someone to keep an eye on. This girl, from the tips of her scuffed sneakers to the top of her short head, was different. Not pretty. Not striking. She walked in an inelegant way that made him want to chuckle as well- nearly but not stomping her feet as she went- something that he never really saw. Too used to high heeled actresses and well-stepped men in suits. _The girl was the epitome of the unrefined_ , he thought with a faint nod when she showed him the phone, beaming at him in a strangely charming way.

Despite the rest of her, she had clean, even teeth, and an open happy smile without guile or reason beyond her joy. It was a spark of true emotion, of being completely uncensored. For someone constantly surrounded by actors and entertainers, that type of smile was appealing.

"The address?" he asked, quietly.

The girl responded in a chirp, rattling off the address easily before she gave him another smile, and stomped away.

He turned to the phone and quickly called the office to arrange a second car if he had yet to return in two hours, and for his secretary, Mizuki, to push back any meetings to tomorrow morning. Despite the relatively short distance between the office and his current location, he was already running late. By checking his expensive watch, he saw it was already three. The second car would take more than half an hour to reach his current address even if he demanded them to rush. With another hour to commute to the office, plus whatever distance to the various meeting places, all of his appointments would be impossible to reach. He would return to Tokyo well past five o'clock at the worst. The best thing for him to do was to rearrange his schedule and take the rest of the day off. Not entirely satisfied, Masumi went to make his way back to the front of the restaurant, resigned, and feeling odd at the fact that he had lost an entire day of working due to the car failure. He stopped because the girl, Maya, was frozen in the middle of the hallway, blocking his way.

"Excuse me," he said, politely, if a little cooly.

The girl did not move from her place in the hallway. Back still turned to him, the girl didn't even flinch at the sound of his voice. Masumi tried again, and again, the girl did not seem to notice him at all. Despite the space in the hallway, Masumi found himself unable to move around her. Something about her stillness struck him. She had been all gangly arms and strangely kinetic in all of her steps. She did not seem like the type of person to be... So still. Confused, and almost concerned he made his way around to look at the girl's face.

What he saw, was not something he expected. Not from a girl this young, and ordinary.

Masumi saw that her face is incredibly intent. Her eyes were assessing, almost hyper-focused. Slightly narrowed, light brown bright in what looked like concentration. Yet they looked dazed. Hazy. Her small face relaxed and her small mouth parted, her skin flushed. Following her gaze, he realized that the girl was completely immersed in a television show, a drama from his company in fact, to the point that she looked besotted. She is peeking through a slightly opened rice-paper door, stock still. It was unnatural, for someone to be staring so strongly at something as ordinary as watching television. Even odder for someone to be doing it from behind a screen-

"AGH!" screamed a voice, shrieked really. Masumi was completely surprised by the scowling face of a fifteen or so year old girl appearing in the gap of the screen. She was plain, but flashy with bleached curly hair and heavy make-up, trying to cover up her freckles. She bared her teeth at Maya, and the poor girl jumped back, stumbling over her feet and falling on her behind. The older girl had a menace in her tone that was marred by her glee, as she announced even louder, "MAYA'S PEEPING AGAIN, WHAT A BAD KID!"

With that, the paper door slammed shut, and Maya's shoulders, small and slightly shaking in fright at the scream from the older girl's, fell in dismay. Carefully, and what seemed to be an automatic gesture he didn't know he had in him, Masumi reached over, offering the startled girl a hand. She placed her hand in his, and he was again struck by how tiny it was. He lifted her easily and blinked at how light she was.

"Like dramas then, Chibi-chan?" he asked, and the nickname falls from his lips easily. _She was so small, after all_. Nevermind that Masumi was not the type to give anyone a nickname.

The girl turned, eyes wide. Shock fell to surprise. Her surprise to irritation. She was incredibly expressive, and it was as if Maya never even thought to school her expression.

"My name isn't chibi!' she said indignantly, actually stomping her foot much to his amusement, "It's Kitajima Maya!"

He smirked at how the shy girl floundered as she realized she yelled at him- a customer. He took the abuse with surprising grace, unused to anyone standing up to him in any capacity, so used to anyone bowing down in the wake of his name, his face, his cool attitude. In fact- in fact, he thought it was sort of hilarious.

"Pleased nice to meet you, Kitajima Maya, I'm Hayami Masumi, and unless you're taller than this," he gestured way above her head, somewhere along with his nose height, "Then you're definitely a chibi."

The girl's cheeks puffed out, and again, Masumi is again struck by how expressive her face is. She was open in a way he hardly ever saw, and he thought she was the type to be hard-pressed to lie. And probably very bad at it.

"I'll grow to be that big," she said, her small hands twisting together, scowling at him.

"Maybe. And you never did answer my question," he prompted.

"Huh?"

"Do you like dramas?"

The answer, while along the lines of what he had expected, blew him away.

"Yes, and movies! I adore them! I don't know why… But whenever I see a drama or a movie… It feels like I go into a trance," said Maya, eyes wide and her pale face flushing, "I feel like I _am_ one of the characters I feel as if I'm not my ordinary self, but _one_ of those characters on the show. It's… makes me feel wonderful."

It was an impassioned speech, the girl was practically brimming with her enthusiasm, her fingertips twisting and her eyes sparkling with her explanation. And it was utterly showed how much the girl disliked herself, and the level of escapism that Masumi found himself envying. Because it was what he could afford to do. Something he could never indulge in. It was almost admirable, and strangely Masumi found that he knew that had never been him. Ever since he was a child, he had his feet on the ground. _What an odd girl_ , he thought, a smile of sheer surprise appearing on his lips.

"That's nice, chibi-chan," he said, a startled chuckle escaping his lips as she scowled at him, and he let out another as he ruffled her hair and got a howl of indignation, "Never forget a love like that. It can so easily be taken away."

With that, she stomped away, huffing and red from her embarrassment, but strangely, she turned back and gave him a yet another smile. It was just a quick turn back, but her smile- her smile was bright and true. Again, Masumi found himself jealous of this small, twelve-year-old girl in this nowhere Chinese restaurant, because she hadn't lost what he had lost when his mother had married Hayami. Innocent and happy at something as simple as a drama or movie. Masumi sighed, before he made his way outside, calling his driver inside to eat something warm and ignore the car for even a little bit. The young man was flustered, but accepted to eat with him, flushing and nervous as he ate.

Masumi was a little alarmed when Maya was the one to serve them, a young girl their waitress, but as he looked at her well-used clothes and her all-around attitude, he knew that the girl was not from a well off family. He felt a bit of pity but put it out of his mind. He just simply ate his meal(surprised by how delicious it was, even if it wasn't something he would have thought to eat himself), warm and filling. His driver, after guzzling down his meal, had gone out to the car, and come back just as he finished, saying that the car would get them to the office before he took it to the shop. Masumi paid and made sure to tip the girl very well. It was something he would normally do, anyway, but something made him tip even more generously than normal.

As he made his way out, he turned back at a loud cry to see that Maya had started to cry, beaming in his direction, clutching her large tip to her chest. Masumi actually stumbled, because he had never had anyone smile at him in sheer, unfiltered _thankfulness_.

"THANK YOU HAYAMI-SAN!" the girl cried, face flushed, tears leaking from her eyes, bowing deeply to him.

_Damn, she can project her voice._

"Have a nice day, Chibi-chan!" he called back, chuckling slightly.

Masumi walked out with a small smile on his face. A smile that lasted all the way back to Tokyo.


	2. Chapter 2

**Burning Deep Inside Her**

_20 December 1974_

Kitajima Maya was in a good mood, and she found it slightly odd for her to be so.

She was never really sad, per se. She was too busy to feel much of anything. Maybe she was flustered at whatever mess she had made. She was often too late, too clumsy, too dumb at normal things. She was too busy being scolded to understand what she was feeling. _Her mother always said so. Her teachers and classmates said so._ She was normally panicked and embarrassed, maybe, if she was feeling much at all... She was an average girl, average face, grades. Maybe unaverage in the sense that she was always in trouble, always stepping in the wrong place, or talking too loudly, or maybe failing just in the wrong way. She was maybe poorer than normal, and not having a dad made her slightly strange, but she was _normal_. She went to school, she did her homework, she did her job, waited tables, and delivered noodles.

She wasn't really special.

She was just a normal girl, which normal things happened to. And she knew it was silly, to be so excited and satisfied over the kindness of a stranger. Especially one so simply given and a gesture one would argue to be so normal.

But for Maya, it was more than a ridiculously enormous and exaggeratedly generous tip.

 _Who even gives out such big tips? It's way more than I've gotten from a whole night, let alone from one person. Hayami-san must be very rich... Or extra kind._ She had a feeling that most of it had been done out of pity. People did that sometimes. They took a look at her scuffed up shoes, or at her patched-up skirt, and did extra things for her. An extra bun in her order. Or a sweeter smile or kinder words. She was kind of used to people doing things like that...

But something about Hayami-san had felt... _Different._

It hadn't just been the big tip.

Money didn't mean much to Maya. Honestly, it was just not something she thought of often.

What had struck her the most had been because he had been kind enough to listen to her, had _**actually** listened to her._ It could have also been because a rich man like that- his fine suit and coat were really hard to miss in the drab surroundings- that usually tipped like that and had no frame of reference of a reasonable one. But for Maya, the important thing had been the fact that he had listened to her. Heard her speak and not dismissed her or really laughed at her. _Never forget a love like that. It can be easily taken away._ She had stashed away the tip, hidden it in a loose floorboard in hopes of being able to buy her mother something nice for her birthday. And mostly because Maya had no idea what to do with so much money. Why the man had thought that 90,000 yen was a normal amount to give to a young waitress, was beyond her.

She hopes, faintly, that she would see him again, not because of the tip, but because he had _listened_ to her, looked remarkably interested in whatever idiotic thing she had said. She wonders, briefly, why such an older, rich and incredibly handsome man had listened to her. She doesn't know but is grateful all the same. Because for the first time, Maya had said something that hadn't been shot down- that hadn't been laughed off or dismissed for being so _stupid_. She hadn't realized how _nice_ that could be, for someone to just _listen_ to her. Because Hayami-san had done just that- he had been looking directly at her, dark eyes intent, handsome, chiseled face open and interested as she explained why she loved movies and tv.

He hadn't rolled his eyes.

He hadn't told her to put aside her likes because it would lead to nowhere- no, the man had ruffled her hair- annoying and _completely_ rude, but it had been done in a gesture of reassurance. Startling affectionate or casual to someone he didn't know.

_Never forget a love like that. It can be easily taken away._

Maya wondered, what a handsome, obviously very rich and successful man like Hayami Masumi, had lost. Because that simple statement- oh that simple statement- told Maya that _he_ had lost love like her's, and while she understood how useless loving TV and movies was, she would _didn't_ want to give it up. Because it was one of the things that was only hers's, the only thing that didn't show her how stupid she was how much of a burden she was to her poor mother.

"Maya!" snaps her mother, eyes narrowed, quickly.

Maya shucks off her school shoes, _tight, pinched, half a size too small but her mother couldn't afford a new ones_ , rushing forward in her holey socks, cringing at the anger she sees in her mother's face. Even though it was a frequent face, Maya _hated_ upsetting her mother.

"Yes, Mama?" she said, desperately trying not to cringe as her mother stared her down.

Her mother was far from amused- face pinched, mouth pulling sharply at the frown lines around her lips, a stark thing on her otherwise young face, brows furrowed down angrily over her dark eyes. Maya was more than a little out of breath, having run about the last mile in her route to and from school, flexing her toes in sheer relief at the loss of pressure her too-small shoes gave her.

"Where have you been, you should have been here hours ago!"

Maya thinks about the kids in the park, that had been eager to hear new stories. They're like her, without TVs and with ways of being entertained other than playing. The first time she had told a story, their moms' had thanked her - _simple pleasure on their faces, grabbing at elementary children who were quiet for once_ \- the kids had begged and begged for more each time she dashed through the park on the way home from school. Sometimes even when she was going to school and they were on their way to theirs. It wasn't really odd to see Maya going to school with a lot of little kids hanging off of her arms or legs, climbing on her back as they begged for a story. If not on top of her, the children had a habit of trailing after her like ducklings following their mother. It had gotten to the point that a lot of their mother's had asked Maya to take care of them on the way to school, which was why she was often late to her morning class. Herding a bunch of five to eleven-year-olds was no easy feat for one twelve-year-old.

It was just a series of habits that had started. Maya could never bring herself to tell the kids that so adoringly called her 'onee-chan', nor the tired-looking mothers peppering her with little treats and thank you notes for taking a chore off of their shoulders by escorting the kids to school. And sometimes Maya lost track of time. She could never afford a watch to keep track of it. And it was important for her that the kids got to school without getting hurt.

"I lost track of time," she says, cringing as her mother clicks her tongue in disgust. Her mother is shaking her head, her frown pinching further downward in her upset.

"Not only are you plain, but stupid! Oh, if only you weren't like your father! Get upstairs and dress for your shift. You're working until closing today because of your tardiness. I had to cover more than half of your shift!"

Maya blinks, hurt and dreading the homework in her backpack, but nods, making her way upstairs. She changes as quickly as she can, slipping into a worn, warm sweater and skirt. Carefully, she hangs her only uniform, making a note to ask her mother to fix the seam on her shirt(Maya herself could never really do it herself, as she was clumsy and often her mother lost patience and snatched whatever she was doing to do it _properly_ ) before she grabs her work shoes and makes her way into the restaurant. She grabs her apron and forces a smile on her face. The owners give her a hard look as she sets about busing tables and taking orders, giving them up with as much cheer as she could.

The night passes with its usual boring routine, a constant run between the ten tables and the counter, both hands with trays, ignoring the slightly drunk men as they hoot and holler, ignoring the jabbering housewives that look down on her old shoes and carefully repaired skirt, ignoring the irate customers that just want to make trouble because they can. When Sugiko-san comes in around eight, make-up slightly smeared around her mouth, and wearing a sour expression and the apron for working around the restaurant, Maya shucks off her own apron and goes behind the counter, already reaching for the full delivery boxes, two, and quickly noting the addresses before she gives a nod to the cook, and goes off into the dark night.

It is around two in the morning that Maya finally makes it upstairs after sweeping and closing up the restaurant, chucking off her work shoes, and carefully removing her work clothes, folding them neatly and evenly on her part of the shared dresser. Her eyes are already closing as she drops onto the shared futon with her mother, on top, not even bothering to grab her pajamas that night, before she forces herself awake, and reaches for her homework. Luckily for her, it was Saturday tomorrow, and she only had a half day of school, so she didn't have to worry about Japanese classical literature, gym, English, or biology. She could push those off until, at the latest, her lunchtime on Monday, if not, Sunday. She gets to work on her math, tongue poking out until she finishes every last bit of the work.

It's a mess of confusing numbers- formulas half-remembered. But Maya works through it, sharpening her pencils with a blade carefully, knicking herself only twice in both her tiredness and a usual bout of clumsiness. It's five by the time that Maya finishes, no doubt having made a poor effort, but too glad to be finished in the first place to care too much.

It's six when her mother is shaking her awake, scolding her for not wearing proper clothes to bed, and scolding her that if she catches a cold, it will be her own fault. Maya, half-awake, meekly takes her scolding with nods and several sleepy 'sorry Mamas', before she dresses in her uniform, quickly using some safety pins to close the small hole in her shirt as her mother had yet to fix it. She is already putting on her too-small shoes, a piece of burnt toast clutched in her teeth as she ran out, stopping by each of the kids in her neighborhood who were chattering excitedly and begging for a story.

Finally, Maya felt a smile, a real one, come on her lips for the first time in nearly a day. She beamed at the children, lifting her slightly stiff and aching limbs and allowing two of her youngest 'ducklings' to swing from her thin arms. She doesn't wince at the ten-kilogram weights at all or the way the ache deepened at their actions. The kids were giggling too hard for Maya to put them down.

"So you want a story?"

A chorus of pleas, of 'oh please onee-chan' fill her ears, and requests come around, children giggling and laughing with her. Pleading eyes, bright and innocent of little kids, surround her.

"Okay, so, do you want me to pick off where I left off or a new story?"

"Oh, where you left off yesterday in the park, Onee-chan!"

Smiling wider, Maya complies. Because Hayami-san said…

_Never forget a love like that. It can be easily taken away._

And now, Maya intended never to do it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AN: I do not own Garsu no Kamen in any sense. Its universe, characters all belong to its AMAZING creator, Suzue Mizuchu, its publishing and broadcasting companies.
> 
> EDIT: 29 January 2021
> 
> This is me, playing in its sandbox, making misshapen sandcastles.
> 
> I should be doing history research damn it, I need to make a presentation to do but NO it has to be in the 70s and made me think of this... And now I'm horribly behind. Curse the, my beautiful Muse! Anyway, gosh was Maya much harder to write. Masumi was much more jaded and cynical, while I myself am jaded and cynical. Maya's optimism was hard... Her self-esteem issues, made this chapter a bit better to write, however. I apologize if it seems a little off for a twelve-year-old. It's been nine years since I've been one and it's hard to get into that mindset. I also wrote a lot less- but it felt like a good place to cut off here. I'm sorry if anyone expected Masumi again, but, this is a slow burn. And I'm sort of following the Manga by keeping their interactions fairly sparse for the first few 'months' of this fic. But fear not my lovely readers, they will see each other the chapter after the next. The next chapter is Masumi's turn to show us his normal day, and the chapter after that is from Maya's POV seeing Masumi again. I plan on keeping an alternating POV between Maya and Masumi, with a few alternate POVs coming in once and a while, but within a chapter where one or the other is the principal POV. Properly Maya's mother or Suigiko for now, as the other characters won't matter until canon events start happening which is chronologically about a year away.
> 
> NOTES:
> 
> 1: Roughly thirty dollars, though the exchanged rate was taken not from 1974 but rather 1975, as that was the farthest back I could find. Also, 30 bucks was a lot in 1974.
> 
> 2: Maya isn't stupid. This is a girl that memorizes entire plays and people's expressions and movements in a single three-hour viewing. She is more than likely highly intelligent when it comes to things that she loves/is driven to do. She just has a very low opinion of herself, and really has no drive before she started acting. I always thought that in combination to working as a waitress, and her mother and a lot of people putting her down, she struggles to do anything. Confidence can really affect how a person learns and behaves in a highly structured environment like school, especially at such a young age.
> 
> Because hormones are a bitch.
> 
> 3: Shoes typical to Japanese uniforms are expensive, usually made out of leather even today, and Maya is from a single-parent household in the 1970s. She most likely can only afford a pair every two years, if that.
> 
> 4: Maya is such a sweetheart. And I needed to give her a little lightness around all the horribleness that is her early life. She always seems to get along with kids throughout the manga, and in the first volume, another mother knows her by name. Even if the Yokohama district is really small at the time of the manga, I always assumed that she had a relationship with some of the mothers in the neighborhood. After all, we see her entertaining kids in the park when she grabs Tsukiga's attention. I just expanded on that because Maya needs some good.
> 
> 5: Digital watches were in the market by 1970, but were fairly expensive. All watches were, really, and we don't see anyone with them other than the characters that are fairly wealthy, to begin with, like Masumi, Mitsuki, and Ayumi(properly branded too!).
> 
> 6: Again, any time we see Maya do something, her mother screams at her for doing it wrong, and calls her useless and stupid, instead of teaching her how to do it correctly. I seriously think that Maya's mother gave Maya some serious phycological issues when it comes to her self-esteem and prevents her from learning how to do things. A lot of people struggle with how to do things when they don't know the proper way of doing things- Once we see Maya with a mentor, with any semblance of attention and praise, even Tsukagi who is a fucking taskmaster and more than a little abusive, Maya blooms. Maya's mother never really gives the poor girl a chance. To bitter about the death of her husband/and or baby-daddy(never really explicitly said in the manga) who, by implication, looks and acts a lot like her father.
> 
> 7: Most Japanese schools have a six-day week- or really five and a half, using Saturdays for half-day lessons and club activities for the latter half of the day. I know... The horror of not having a Saturday!
> 
> 8: Sharpeners as we know it today, were not invented till... The early 80s I want to say(do not quote me on that)? At least I know that in the 70s using a blade was fairly common to do it, and in the manga proper, we can see Maya doing it.
> 
> Please read and review my lovelies- the two who have done so made my day c:
> 
> ~Happy Reading,
> 
> Moon Witch '96

**Author's Note:**

> AN: I do not own Glass Mask, or Garsu no Kamen in any sense. It's universe, characters all belong to its AMAZING creator, Suzue Miuchi, its publishing and broadcasting companies.
> 
> This is me, playing in its sandbox, making misshapen sandcastles.
> 
> EDIT: 6 June 2020
> 
> This is seriously one of the most underrated manga that I know of in the States- it is such a damn shame that it has yet to be released in English officially. I would buy all of the manga in a gosh-darn heartbeat if it was in English. Even though my Japanese is minimal and mostly on the spoken side, I would defiantly wouldn't mind buying it in the original language either. It is just that damn good. Thanks on a whim, I looked up to see what fanfiction it had and saw it has a dismal amount if all relatively well written. This is my attempt at a fanfiction.
> 
> NOTES:
> 
> 1: This AU takes place a year before the start of the manga. I pegged as starting in 1975 in December, and continuing into 1976 because that was the year it was first published.
> 
> 2: It is 1974, and commercial car phones were the closest thing we get to a cellphone at the time. They were, however, very expensive and relied on towers that most cities at the time just didn't have. Especially in a smaller area like Yokohama.
> 
> 3: Ayumi's father.
> 
> 4: So, most people in Japan have darker colored hair(with exceptions of Masumi and Ayumi, which I always figured had soft brown hair, Ayumi even lighter side but not too much cause she is Japanese guys), but a popular thing for the kiddies is to bleach it to turn it lighter. I always imagine that the girl, Sugiko, the daughter of the Restaurant owners was totally the type to bleach her hair.
> 
> ~Happy Reading,
> 
> Moon Witch '96


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